Reunited
by Costume Ball
Summary: Spoiler. George isn't the same anymore. Monologue.


**Reunited**

We had a bond. A bond that hardly anyone has, if at all. As cheesy as this sounds, it was a blessing, the greatest in my life, and still I took it for granted. Only now that you're gone, I know I didn't appreciate it enough.

Of course, we knew what we were getting into, it was war after all. But when thinking of death, it was never just one of us dying, it was always 'us'. We were a unity, there wasn't just Fred or just George, it had always been Fred and George. And what is a twin without his other half? I feel so incomplete.

I never had to think to guess what was going on in your mind. We could finish off each other's sentences, we'd have the same opinion, we were just connected. Two halves, neither was the good nor the bad one, but that wasn't of significance anyway. I couldn't hide anything from you, but it's not as if there was ever any need to. You understood me, no matter what. I can't even think of more than one day that we were separated, I can't recall any serious fight, I can't remember not having you by my side.

I remember how we wanted to cheer people up, during and after the war. Of course there were always things that hurt and shocked me, but with you at my side the pain was bearable. Now it's as if the candle that brightened the dark, stopped sharing its light, it has stopped burning. See, Fred, see what I've become? Instead of making jokes I am merely being some kind of bad poet.

I'm trying not to feel anymore. What's life worth without you? I feel as if I was ripped in two, and the other half was taken away. Well, frankly, that is pretty much what happened.

It's not 'the twins' anymore. It's just George. Only George and nothing but George. Your death taught me the real meaning of some words. Alone. Loneliness. Loss. Emptiness. I'm not striving for anything anymore. I'm withering away like the flowers on your grave.

People say I have changed. But what do they expect me to do? Keep on living, just like before?

I know they are right, I did change. I find myself being so apathetic and indifferent, I spend most of my time staring blankly into space, lost in old memories. Every place I visit, every person I meet, everything I see, it all reminds me of you, and how could it not? Everything I experienced was with you. Just one hour without you felt so strange, a day without you was torture. I now live my life so carelessly. People say I'm nothing but an empty shell, a ghost and I know how right they are. Ironically, the times that I feel most alive are those when I visit your grave.

I'm being told to let go, there is nothing I can do for you anymore. I should let it rest, let you rest in peace. But how do you let go of someone who accompanied you all your life, who was the centre of your life? And what if I don't want to let go? In fact, there's nothing I want to cling on to even more.

No one has seen me show the faintest hint of happiness since then. A few fake smiles here and there. The worst, they say, is that I'm not joking anymore, neither does the sound of my laughter fill the air. If I did laugh, I'd miss the voice that was so similar to mine, the laughter that would always be heard at the same time as mine. Jokes just don't seem funny anymore, happiness doesn't exist and I'm ashamed to say, I didn't manage to set a foot into our store. It was rampaged by the Death Eaters, anyway, now it's all broken and dusty, the others said.

The worst of all are the mirrors, though. Everytime I look into one, see the red hair you also had, see those freckles, see those familiar eyes, I can't help but glance sideways, expecting you to stand to my left, joking about the loss of my ear. I'm avoiding mirrors as best as I can.

Of course it is hard for the others, too. They miss you so badly. But they don't feel like me, they will get over it eventually. Strangely, the one who is the most understanding is Percy. He doesn't talk, he just keeps me company, silently. He's not trying to make me talk like the others. We're just sitting next to each other, reminiscing. Can you believe that? I mean, Perce? Can you imagine just sitting with him, silently? Not testing any pranks on him, not cracking any stupid, inappropriate jokes? It feels strange but also somewhat comforting. But not even he really understands what I feel.

There is no one there to finish my sentences now. I still catch myself waiting, when my phrases are hanging in the air, I expect to hear that familiar voice, your voice, ending them. When I look to the left I expect to see you standing there, smiling, just the way it used to be all my life.

How alive is someone who spends most of his time on a graveyard, Fred? It doesn't sound like me, does it? At times I wish I had been the one to die, but then again I really wouldn't want you to go through this. I sometimes wonder if you can actually see and hear me. See how pathetically I am kneeling in front of your grave, my face buried in my hands, crying?

There will never be a bond as strong as ours, never again.

One would expect the highly praised magic to make us able to succeed at anything, but even though magic can take lives away it can't bring those back who are gone.

And if I can't bring you back... wouldn't it be best to just follow? Sometimes, when I'm alone and really desperate I get the feeling your presence is still lingering here somewhere, but I know you wouldn't want an existence as a ghost. You're not a coward. But if I really took my life, would we actually be reunited? Have you gone somewhere, where I can't follow already? I think, in the end I will just have to try because I can't go on like this, worrying everyone else. It's nothing new that I worry people, just the reason why they worry has changed, Fred. They're not worrying that whichever object I hand them might be dangerous, they're not worrying that I'm pulling pranks on them anymore.

They wanted to take my wand away from me. Just what is a wizard without his wand? Then again, I haven't used it much lately. I don't do much anymore at all, actually. I visit your grave, eat, visit your grave, sleep and visit your grave again.

And it has only been two weeks since that day. Everyone was so happy, Voldemort was fought. He's gone, Fred, did you know? But so are you. I'd rather live under his regime again, if that would bring you back. I'd do anything to bring you back, but it's impossible, I know.

Maybe it is actually time to follow.

As I'm writing the note, the last note, I realize this isn't a proper goodbye. I'll talk to all of them, hug them, one last time. Damn it, Fred, it's hard, it's so goddamn hard. But I feel I have made the right decision...

As I feel the life flowing out of me, slowly, I just can't help it. Despite what I have become, it would be unlike me, unlike who I have been all my life, to die in silence, in tears or in worries. I have to laugh. The final laughter. Nevertheless it is a forced, quiet sound. It's hollow and dying, like me.

And then, there's a hand. A hand coming out of nowhere, reaching out for me. But of course I recognize it, and how could I not? I smile.

--

A little late.. I wrote this after reading Volume 7. I can't imagine George living without Fred... so yeah.


End file.
